


Show Me How To Get Offended

by FakePlastikTrees



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Drunk Kisses, Drunk Sex, F/M, Hot Tub Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:00:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24264733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FakePlastikTrees/pseuds/FakePlastikTrees
Summary: Beth and Rio drink expensive bourbon and have sex in a hot tub.
Relationships: Beth Boland/Rio
Comments: 13
Kudos: 187





	Show Me How To Get Offended

**Author's Note:**

> This came from the Tumblr "Kiss" prompt :)

“You keep staying so late, people are gonna think you live here.”

Beth looks up from the mountains(stacks really) of paperwork on her desk to see a grinning Rio blocking her doorway, and realizes that, despite the constant annoyance that exists strictly to be directed at him, she’s far too tired to take the bait. Rather than snap back with some smarmy remark, she sighs, and stares blankly back at him. 

“There’s a lot of filing to do. And I can’t afford an assistant yet, so, either grab a pile or come back during business hours.” 

She expects a whole speech about how he’s the boss and she works for him, or some variation of that, yadda yadda yadda, but what comes instead is a nice surprise. 

“You want to get a drink?” 

And yes. She does. But if she leaves tonight knowing she’ll have to come back to this mess in the morning, she’ll never get any sleep. 

“I can’t. I really should finish up here.” 

“We don’t have to go anywhere. You got a stash in here?” 

She motions at the credenza by the door. “Bottom shelf. In the back.” 

She watches him bend down and pull out a bottle of Elijah Craig bourbon she’d bought for herself upon the opening of Boland Bubbles. She doesn’t know what exactly she’s been saving it for, but it’s comforting just knowing it’s there. 

Rio’s visibly surprised when he straightens. 

“What?” 

“Three hundred dollar bottle of bourbon? The lady’s got expensive taste. You’ve been spoiling yourself?” 

Beth shrugs, drops her pen on the desk, giving up on work at least for now, while he gets out what he needs to get out. She sits back while Rio walks over to one end of the room to retrieve two glasses from the table she mostly keeps stocked with candy and non-alcoholic beverages. For Annie, mostly. 

“Someone’s gotta do it, right?”

And she doesn’t mean it that way, but maybe that’s just the mood she’s in right now. 

He smiles at that as he sets the glasses down on the desk before he begins to work the bottle open. “Car man not  _ spoiling _ you lately?” 

Beth glares at him. 

Maybe she’s not too tired to be annoyed after all. 

“Must you make everything sound so lewd?” 

“Not being lewd,” he states, then hands her a glass before pouring himself an equally generous amount. He casually leans against the desk, half-sitting on the ledge and twisting his body to face her. “Just curious if anybody’s taking care of you.” 

“I don’t need anybody to take care of me,” she replies smartly, raising the glass up to her lips and sipping. She almost moans, the flavor is so rich. 

“Yeah, I don’t doubt that.”

His eyes remain on hers as he drinks, then lets out a low whistle of appreciation. 

“This is good.” 

“I know,” Beth says, then downs her serving before holding her glass out for more. “You should just fill it up.”

The warmth of it hits her quickly. Two sips into her second glass, and she’s shrugging off her blazer, and regretting wearing a sweater. 

Rio’s now properly sitting in a chair on the other side of her desk, behind the files she knows won’t get sorted before tomorrow, cheeks flushed the way they get when he drinks. Something flutters inside Beth knowing she has this bit of information on him. That she knows other things, too. Private, intimate things. She shivers a little at that.

_ And did the air conditioning stop working? _

“I need to,” she announces as she gets up, gesturing with her free hand, “It’s a little warm in here. Let’s go out there. Bring the bottle.” 

He follows her through the showroom. It’s fully stocked now, and as she paces the floor, she realizes she doesn’t really know where she’s going until she spots their newest arrival. A 6-person hot tub with neon lights that change the appearance of the water.

She turns to face Rio as she reaches it. “What do you think? It’s new. It’s Canadian. It has built-in speakers. It’s twenty-thousand dollars.” 

Rio snorts. “It’s tacky as shit.” 

“That it is,” she says with a nod. “Care to join me?”

He snorts at her throwing his words back at her and watches, amused, as she toes off her boots and then very carefully climbs into the empty tub.

“Can you imagine having the money to start a business like this?” Beth sits back, arms outstretched behind her, occasionally bringing her glass up for a sip. “I mean, like, a fully staffed business; cars, hot tubs, whatever. Imagine having enough money to be that comfortable. I feel like that’s not even possible these days.” 

“The system’s not built for that anymore.” 

“Was it ever, though?” 

“For white people in the 40’s and 50’s, yeah.” He stops to think. “ And the 60’s and 70’s. The 80’s...”

“Maybe still a little bit now, right?” 

He shrugs.

“You still got a better chance at getting away with this than me, right?” 

She lets that linger as he refills his own glass.

“Good thing we’re partners then, huh?” 

“To white privilege,” he says, raising his glass.

She doesn’t toast to that but she drinks anyway, just to top off her buzz while Rio steps into the tub, sitting opposite her. 

“So, about that name…” he starts.

Beth throws her head back and groans, “Please don’t.” 

“What?” 

“You don’t have to tell me Boland Bubbles is stupid, okay? I know it’s stupid. But Dean likes it, and I need him to be happy right now–we both do–so the name stays.”

She drinks, and he drinks, and if they weren’t sitting in a ridiculous hot tub with all their clothes on and no water, it would almost be fun. If they were at a bar instead, their bar, or his bar, whatever. If they were any other two people in the world this  _ could _ be fun. 

“Is that working?”

She blinks back the shock of hearing his voice in the midst of her quiet contemplation.

“Is what working?” 

“Keeping him happy.”

“For now,” she answers honestly. And the more the words linger in the air, the more meaning they translate. For now, meaning while she gains momentum. For now, meaning until she has some semblance of independence and leverage. For now, until she can cut ties with Dean and not fear losing her children to him. 

Rio nods slowly. “Aright.” 

Beth opens her mouth to ask him what he’s doing here, but she finds that no sound comes out because the moment she starts, she realizes that’s not what she wants to know. She doesn’t really care about that. Right now, it feels as though she could get away with asking some other things. Other things Mr. Fitzpatrick might have not gotten close enough to get the full low down about. 

“Do you like music?” 

“Sure,” he responds without missing a beat. 

_ Good _ , Beth thinks. He seems to be just about as buzzed as she is, judging by the way his body doesn’t tense up the way it usually does when she attempts to pry even a little bit about anything personal. 

“What kind?” 

“What kind do  _ you _ like?”

“No, no, no, we’re not doing that right now.” She leans across the short space between them and takes the bottle from him in order to fill her glass halfway before handing it back to him. “Tell me one real thing about you.”

He shrugs, sinks lower into the slippery tub seat and sighs. “I don’t know. Different kinds.” 

“Now that I think about it, I’ve been in your car multiple times and I don’t think you’ve ever had the radio on. Come on, I barely know anything about you.”

“I’d say you know me pretty intimately.” 

She rolls her eyes, but blushes anyway. He’s been more...brazenly flirtatious lately, and she takes that as a good sign. 

“What a cop-out.” 

He chuckles.

“I don’t know. I like...Ray Charles. Bill Withers. A little Al Green.”

“Bill Withers. Really?” 

“You surprised?”

“Honestly, yes.” 

“What did you think I was into? Reggaeton and Narcocorridos?” 

“Okay. I’m pretty sure I know what one of those is, and no! You’re--a jigsaw puzzle with like half of the pieces missing. I’m just trying to put the whole thing together with what I’ve got.” 

He nods. “Fair enough. What about you?”

“What  _ about _ me?” She counters, stretching a leg out and resting her foot beside him. 

“What do you listen to? What were you listening to when I caught you dancing that one time?” 

She laughs. 

“Oh, god.”

She’s almost embarrassed, about the dancing, and about what prompted the dancing. Almost, but not quite yet. 

“Um, I don’t know. Might have been some 80’s one hit wonder or something.”

Rio makes a face like he just tasted something foul. “Oh god. Be less predictable, Elizabeth.”

“Fuck you,” she laughs and playfully kicks his thigh.

He grabs her foot then, holding it by the ankle as he sets his glass down on the tub floor. 

She holds her breath, heart hammering in her chest as she watches him carefully fold back her jeans once, twice, before starting a perfectly pressured massage at her heel, working the sore spot until she’s all but melting into her seat. 

If they were sober, this would be weird. 

If they were sober, she would be more careful about the sighing and about biting, or not biting her lip as she makes direct eye contact with him. But they’re not sober, and they’re alone, and this is the most care anyone’s put into touching her in a long time, so she doesn’t examine it to death like she normally would. 

He briefly glances at her plain, black socks and says, “Your socks are matching.”

“They are,” she answers. 

_ God, why does her voice sound so small? _

“Good?” he asks, somewhat strained and Beth can see his Adam’s apple bob when he swallows. 

Oh god, this is not going anywhere good. Or at the very least anywhere very wise. 

She nods, squirming a little in her seat when he rubs at her arch in delicious upward motions with his thumbs. By the time he gets to work on the ball of her foot, she’s beyond controlling what comes out of her mouth, and in this case it’s a soft moan. 

“Oh, my god, that’s good.” 

“You like that?” 

Her eyes feel heavy, as do her limbs, in the best of ways, and she can’t help but lick her lips when she looks at him and his lips are slightly parted, his chest heaving a little as he continues massaging slowly, now in slow circular motions that remind her of other times he’s used that pattern on her and she almost pulls her foot away, except he feels her foot twitch and grips it in place. 

“What else do you like?” He asks her, and  _ oh god _ . 

Beth can hardly breathe. She’s wet, and throbbing, between her legs already.

She holds her breath when he carefully sets her left foot down then picks up the other so her legs are slightly spread. Exhaling slowly as slides a hand up and inside her jeans to firmly grip her calve, Beth’s eyes flutter shut and she has to set her glass down beside her so she doesn’t drop it. 

“You like when I touch you?”

She doesn’t speak. Can’t speak as he draws circles on her skin with his index finger. All she can do is nod her head, her breath shaky. 

“I like touching you,” he husks, exhaling heavily as he leans forward a little. “I like tasting you. You want me to touch you?”

She knocks his glass over as she pulls her leg from his grasp and then crosses over to sit astride him. They’re kissing in no time, her arms wrapped around him as he holds her head with a firm grip in her hair, while his other hand grabs at her ass and pulls her against him.

He licks the roof of her mouth and then pulls her by the hair so their lips are but grazing when he whispers roughly, “I can’t stop thinking about fucking you.”

He lunges forward and kisses her again, drawing back with a not-so-gentle tug of her bottom lip and she groans at that, gyrating her hips against his. 

“Can’t stop thinking about the last time,” he adds between kisses. “The sounds you made when I tasted you–how you fucked my mouth when you came.” 

She couldn’t speak if she wanted to, can’t even think, the way his words are absolutely wrecking her senses. All she can do is respond by kissing him in kind, hard, and sloppy and a little desperate. When he releases her hair only to grab her ass with both hands and crush her to him, she lets out a keening moan against his lips, grinding down against him in search of some friction. 

She wants to tell him to touch her, to fuck her right here in the tub, but she can’t get herself to do anything but feel the satisfying pressure against her clit when she juts forward in just the right way. 

And then she feels him bury his face in the crook of her neck, muffling a groan, and she knows she’s going to need more. 

“Fuck me,” she pants as she reaches between them and begins to pull at his belt, but he brushes her hands away to pop her jeans open instead. 

“Turn around.” 

There’s some maneuvering that will likely leave her sore and regretting some things, and a brief pause while he pulls a condom out of his pocket that almost has Beth thinking twice about this, but by the time she’s on his lap, back against his chest, and he’s got a hand up her sweater and the other holding her firmly by the waist as he fucks her into oblivion, she doesn’t care. 

She’s got her back arched against him, her legs spread with him impossibly deep inside her, and she’s going to have to just count her losses and give away this hot tub because she doesn't think she’ll be able to look at this thing and not remember what happened in it. 

“You feel so good,” she hears him whisper somewhere behind the fog of her approaching orgasm, and then he’s circling the base of her clit and it hits her in hot waves that tense and then rock her body relentlessly.

Her left hand finds his, the one palming her breast, and she holds it there as the last of her release draws his out and they ride the tailend together, right up until they’re but a sweaty and breathless mess of limbs, both all too aware of their surroundings to help the laughter the slowly bubbles up.

In between all this, when she finally stops giggling, Beth manages to crawl off his lap and pull her underwear and jeans back up–and she finds she can’t look at him. Not out of blatant embarrassment like she thought, but a more tepid bashfulness. 

When she does look at him as she tucks her hair back behind her ears, he’s lounging comfortably, looking up at her through heavy lids as he drinks bourbon right out of the bottle and shamelessly ogles her. 

“Don’t make this weird, Elizabeth.”

She stares back, mouth agape and exclaims, “I wasn’t going to make it weird!”

Soon thereafter, she gasps in surprise when he manages to pull her down beside him with little effort. She blames it on the slippery seats. 

“I should clean this up,” she says about the spilled alcohol. 

“All you gotta do right now is have a drink, yeah? Make it weird tomorrow.” 

“I wasn’t going to--”

But then he’s handing her the bottle, looking at her like he doesn’t hate her, and as she takes the bottle, she thinks that maybe that could be enough for now. 

She can absolutely wait until tomorrow to make it weird.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I never said there would be water in the hot tub.


End file.
